Varanasi

Finally, I'm getting around to posting more pictures from India. These from Varanasi are unfortunately the last of the photos (both for Varansi and India) because my computer crashed a month ago and there is no place I can take to get it fixed around here. At least, Varansi is one of the oldest continually-inhabited cities in the world, so it will most likely be the same if I make it back someday.

From Kolkata we took a train up to Varanasi, then to Agra, then to Delhi. Since we didn't start planning our India trip until the night before leaving (not a strategy I'd recommend), we had to go buy train tickets at the ticket office in Kolkata. It worked out fine and the ticket seller was really nice. "As your elder," he said "Can I offer you some advice? People will try to make friendship with you and then offer you food or drink. Don't take it! It will make you senseless!" He was exactly right. On our train ride there, a man tried repeatedly to befriend us by telling us his daughter our age-- that he never lets out of the house alone and would never allow to travel as we are. Not the best tactic. He wouldn't leave us alone. We clearly didn't take any of the "special homemade food" he tried to force at us!

Otherwise, our 20 hour train ride to Varanasi was really nice, despite the fact that it was about 8 hours late. We learned later that there are different "priority" levels of trains, with the higher ones being kept on schedule. Here's LB in our sleeper car:


We got into Varanasi after dark, and found our way through the winding streets of the city to our hostel. The old part of the city is laid out like many "old cities", I guess. All the lanes are narrow, winding, and nonsensical (and all the more interesting!). Our hostel was on the bank of the Ganges, right in front of one of the ghats. The Ganges is a holy river for Hindus and hundreds of people bathe in it each morning at Varanasi. The dead are also cremated into the water at a special ghat, which we got to see. They are cremated on special, expensive logs. As we were wandering the narrow alleys of the city, we occasionally would turn a corner right into the middle of funeral procession. A body propped up on logs, and a procession of men (only, of course) following behind in a line. We also stumbled upon a lot of cows.

We took a boat trip in the morning, at sunrise, and watched people bathing in the river . . . it's one of those things that sounds fine before you go, but makes me feel really uncomfortable as a tourist! It is a special something that I can read about, but am not part of and shouldn't be watching...

Cows are sacred to the Hindus. So, there were lots of cows. After awhile they just blend in with the crowds.

Bathing on the banks of the Ganges:

Cows have this much coordination?

One of the ghats:

Cow dung is saved and dried out in cakes for use in fueling fires (you can see this all over Bangladesh as well):

Along the water:

Veggie market:

The ghat in front of our hostel. They made the monument too big, and it sunk in!:

Cow, taking in the view of the Ganges:

India = Colorful

We stumbled upon one of the famous temples in Varanasi, where a lot of people were heading to worship:

Busy streets! On our way back to the train station, rushing through the narrow lanes at night, we almost plowed over a cow. I think it got a little irritated. "Slowly, slowly!!" an Indian shouted at us.

chhaupadi

"Nepal's 'confined women' want change"
(from the BBC)

I used this article for discussion in my classes on Thursday. It’s about the practice, in Nepal, of isolating women and their babies for the first 11 days after childbirth. Not all students were against it, making for an interesting discussion. It does sound harmless initially. As one student pointed out, maybe it’s good that the baby is not exposed to all the germs, bacteria and viruses carried in the outside world by other people. However, this means that these women and children do not receive medical care if they fall ill. The mothers are not allowed to eat normal, nutritious food like lentils and meat, forgoing the protein and iron that they surely need after childbirth. Finally, the two are typically kept in isolation in an unsanitary, dark, dank place with animals, such as a cow shed.

Depressingly, one student noted that even though the women in the article are upset, it only lasts for 11 days. Surely she will remember her experience when it comes time to force her daughter to do the same, but the pressure of tradition will overrule and the cycle continues. Many of our families still practice these things, the students noted, even though many of us are sitting here thinking they should not.

Apparently rules like this apply to menstruation, too. And they are found across religions—my Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist students all compared similar restrictions. Frequently, women are not allowed in places of worship while they are menstruating because they are not “pure” in this condition. There’s a temple in India where no women are allowed to go from the age of 8 to 60. Why, asked one student, are we pushed away from God while in a condition God created for us? On a more uplifting note, one student made the very good point that while these rules are followed in the name of God, they are not written by God. There is no evidence of them in any holy book. They are created completely by society and therefore can be changed by society, too!

Our Coordinates

I found the school building on Google Maps-- our coordinates are:
lat: 22.358035
long: 91.824149

To the right of the "Royal Garden Community Center" are three white rectangular buildings. The one farthest to the right is actually three smaller buildings. The one closest to the road is the school! AUW actually owns the others, they just aren't completely built yet.


View Larger Map

Talk to Strangers

In the spirit of getting back in the habit of writing regularly, I thought I'd share some of my most recent "Oh, Bangladesh!" moments. I like having at least one whoa-I'm-definitely-not-at-home moment every day. The last couple days, these moments came in conversations with locals on the street. Sometimes talking to strangers pays off.

1. Word about our school has gotten out, and people in town sometimes know where it is. The nifty sign on our driveway certainly helps:

Today, I walked past a school that had just let out. A little boy and his older brother (maybe 12 years old) caught my attention and asked, "You study on Asian Woman Lane?"

Close enough! Best street name ever. Better yet, for the first month or so, the sign did read "Asian University for Woman Lane" and it was a joke amongst the teachers over which "Asian Woman" would be the lucky one. Then they fixed it.

2. A couple days ago, I was walking back from the market near school. Taking a shortcut, I got bombarded by children "Hello! Hello! Hello!". A little exasperated after a long day, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm for much of a response, and the man walking behind me quieted them down. We then had a rough English-Bangla conversation. Of course, he asked me if I had a husband . . .

Without any hesitation, I told him the story about my husband (he's coming soon from America), along with the reasons why I don't yet have any children, etc.

Fun things I can't do at home :P

Mutiny

Dear Mom:

It's over. The rebels have surrendered and released their
hostages.
Don't worry.

Love,
Cindy

While we were not in any danger (although there was some gunfire in Chittagong), the past couple days were concerning. We left school early and were instructed to stay indoors. The government also shut off the cell phone network. And I got numerous reassuring (*sarcasm) emails from American Embassy saying little besides "All Embassy personnel are to remain safe within the walls of the Embassy". Too bad for the rest of you!

A group of soldiers in Dhaka, part of the Border Patrol (which is also part of the Army in some way), started a mutiny over pay and, ironically, the lack of opportunities to participate in well-paid United Nations peacekeeping missions. It lasted for about two days, stopping only after the Army's show of force in taking tanks to the streets. Altogether, the death toll now stands at 100. Supposedly some of the Border Patrol in Chittagong and other towns also took part in the mutiny, in solidarity I presume.

Now, as officials are going through the Border Patrol camps where the mutiny originated and where the hostages were held, is the saddest part. They've already found 30 bodies of high-ranking officers held hostage and killed by the mutinous guards. Some bodies were left in the sewers, others were thrown into a hastily-dug mass grave site. Worst of all, those found in this grave site were killed after the surrender. Not that there is ever a good reason to kill, but that ranks with the lowest of the low.

The saddest thing, to me, is that this is what the soliders felt they had to do to be paid a decent wage. It's not that only evil, immoral people sign up for this group-- there is just no other avenue they could take. The government is barely there, so corrupt, so overloaded with other problems . . . of course, the newly elected Prime Minsister's son described her handling of this event as "a triumph for democracy" according to the BBC.

News stories:
Here
Here
and Here

D. It is Written

Slumdog Millionaire

I first saw the pirated movie version in Bangladesh, and then got to see it on the big screen during opening weekend in India. I loved the movie; won't say anything more. Go see it! Plus, it's a glimpse into this side of the world.

Having received several nods at recent awards shows, the movie is causing a sensation in India. There's harsh criticism there too-- "India does not have poverty like that." It's not everywhere. But, I'm pretty sure it wasn't just movie sets!

India I: Kolkata

Returned to Chittagong a few days ago, after a fun and exciting two-week trip through India. I'll post as many pictures as I have the patience to upload! We took an overnight bus to India. It cost about $20, and I guess for that low price it is acceptable to lie about the duration of the ride. We were told it was 14 hours-- long enough-- but it was 21 hours later that we actually arrived in Kolkata! Crossing the border at Benapole, we walked through a 10-meter long no-man's-land between the two countries. Coincidentally, I just learned today that this is where West Bengal and Bangladesh celebrate together on Mother Language Day! There were no computer systems or anything at this crossing (causing a minor tiff upon our re-entry at the airport two weeks later), and the border officials didn't seem quite sure about what to do with our American passports. But eventually, we got through, hopped on another bus and arrived in Kolkata.

Waiting in Customs

Leaving Bangladesh!

A note on the name-- Calcutta is the British spelling/pronunciation, but now it's back to Kolkata. Just like Mumbai used to be called Bombay. Chittagong, actually, is the British name as well. Locals call it Chottogram.

Preparing to visit Kolkata, I definitely had a mental picture of ubiquitous poverty and suffering, no doubt brought on by Mother Theresa and popularized tales of her missionary work there. While I hope what she did was valuable, it's unfortunate that her legacy leaves the world with such misconceptions about Kolkata. We heard that lots of locals feel quite ambivalent about her work there, for this reason, and I would not be surprised if that is true. Today's Kolkata is quite different-- it's a charming city with a lot of character, supposedly the "intellectual headquarters" of India. There is certainly a large range of wealth and poverty, like that found in any major urban area in the world, but it's nothing like the images our minds are conditioned to conjure up when hearing "Calcutta".

A little money definitely goes a long way when it comes to lodging in India. Our first night, for $3, we got a damp room in a noisy building where I didn't see another woman the entire time. After that, we upgraded to $5 hostels, which were significantly more comfortable and populated with lots of eccentric tourists (of both genders).

Night #1: Toilet flushing is accompanied by waterworks show

We went to the India Museum. Getting there was really amusing-- the taxi driver didn't know where it was, so he stopped some older men on the road to ask for directions. They started yelling, clearly dismayed that this driver did not where to find the museum for his own country. In true South-Asian fashion, about a dozen men gathered, all shouting directions and chastising the driver. One thing I really liked about tourist sites in India: they charge drastically different entry fees for foreigners and nationals. This museum was $5 for me, about 20 rupees for an Indian. Yes, I have to pay more, but I think it's fair. And what fun are tourist sites if the only other people there are tourists, too?

The museum is in a beautiful old mansion, and is one of the oldest museums in the world:

Elephant skeleton!Relatives. Plus an arm-man.
Whoa

I always find these in my room. They stick to everything. I never knew what they were. Couldn't figure it out, and found them a little creepy. Thanks to the India Museum for solving the puzzle!
Remnant stamp of colonialism:
Millions of cricket games in the park! How do you even remember which game you're in?!?

I think Kolkata is one of the last places where there are still foot-powered rickshaws everywhere:

I really like how people paint and decorate trucks in South Asia:

Slumdog Millionaire posters

Victoria Memorial

Kolkata's taxis

Merry-Go-Round :)

Worship
After finding Mother Therea's Mission (closed on Sundays), we wandered down the road to a pretty church:
The caretaker saw and was quite eager to give us a look:
Tagore's House/Birthplace. An oasis of calm in the middle of the city.
Even I felt like writing poetry.
Street Scene

Ran into some of students, also visiting Kolkata on vacation!

Local food (YUM):

And local drink:

Of all the cities in India, Kolkata was definitely my favorite. The city had a lot of character, and the people were the friendliest we encountered.

Next, on a train and off to Varanasi!

Kolkata train station: